


Good new

by caricari



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Being Crowley (Good Omens), Dating, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Light-Hearted, M/M, aziraphale being a bit of a bastard, late valentines day nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caricari/pseuds/caricari
Summary: Crowley arrives at the bookshop with a question to ask.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 268





	Good new

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago, with valentines day in mind, then promptly forgot about its existence. Hope you enjoy its late, fluffy awkwardness! C.

.

Crowley came bursting into the bookshop around closing time, rain beading on the wool of his coat and clinging to his hair. He looked slightly breathless, as if he’d walked the distance from Mayfair, rather than driven. Indeed, Aziraphale had not heard the car pull up outside. Nor had he felt the demon appear, by magic. This, in itself, made the entry unusual.  Crowley’s greeting threw him even further. 

“Hi, can I borrow you for a moment?”

No intro. No sarcastic remark about the fact that the bookshop’s doors had been locked, the closed sign in place, three hours early. 

Setting down the manuscript he was annotating, Aziraphale turned his back on the desk and set his hands in his lap, watching his friend expectantly. 

“Of course, dear boy. What for?”

“Need a favour.” There was something insistent about the way the words came out, something rushed in the delivery. 

It was growing dark outside, winter afternoon giving way to evening - an odd time to be in a rush, Aziraphale thought, unless Crowley was late for an evening engagement, somewhere. But, then, he wasn’t dressed as if he were heading out. 

“What can I do for you,?” The angel asked.

“Uh…” 

Pulling a face, Crowley wandered over - feet leading him somewhat circuitously towards Aziraphale’s chair. His breaths were, indeed, coming a bit faster than usual. And his skin was wet. He had definitely walked here in the rain, the angel thought, looking up at the demon, who was standing quite silently, now, clearly not sure how to begin. 

“I see that storm everyone’s been harping on about has broken,” Aziraphale pointed out, hoping to get things flowing again.

“Oh. Yeah…” Crowley spared a glance down at his soaked clothes. “Has a bit. The scourge of Ciara, or Kade, or whatever this one’s supposed called…” He frowned. “Weird that they name them, isn’t it? Though, I suppose, they’ve always done that… The alphabetisation has been an improvement, though. Much better than the old ‘the great storm of ninety-three,’ or ‘the fierce little wind of thirteen’, or ‘the sodding big raincloud of-,”

“Did you walk here?” Aziraphale interrupted, gently. 

Crowley looked down at himself again, as if still surprised to find his body wet and present. 

“Yup.”

“Something the matter with the Bentley?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I was just in the park and… and I needed to ask you something.” Crowley cleared his throat. Then, throwing Aziraphale completely, he reached up and pulled off his dark glasses. 

The angel blinked, surprised. Unveiling his eyes was not something Crowley usually did without a decent number of drinks in him, or for specific demonic purpose. Even now that they had begun to spend more time together, it was rare to see him without the veil. And it was even rarer for him to let his irises slide out, snakelike, right across the sclera. It was nice, though, Aziraphale thought. It was nice, to be trusted to see him this way. To see Crowley as he was meant to be seen.

The angel smiled up at his counterpart. 

“Go on, then. Ask away.”

“Uh, okaaaay…” Crowley blew out heavily, as if using the moment to build some momentum, then cleared his throat and shifted from one foot onto the other. “Right. So, it’s a daft thing, really, but I’ve had it bouncing around my head for a while, now, and I just thought… well, you’re my best friend, right?” He paused, minutely, eyes seeking reassurance. 

Aziraphale nodded, trying not to react too much. (Because it gave him great pleasure, to hear those words, but they were both still unused to open displays of emotion - six months into their post-armageddon life - and he didn’t want to scare Crowley off). 

“I am.”

“Cool.” Crowley looked slightly mollified. “And we’re planning on continuing to bugger around on this planet, for a while, right?” He paused, then added. “Togethery-y?”

The angel smiled slightly. “That is the plan.” 

It probably needed refining, at some point, or a bit of embellishment - but after the year he’d had, he was actually rather happy with the vagueness of it. He liked buggering around on Earth, with Crowley. Togethery-y. 

“Right.” The demon cleared his throat, taking a moment to carefully inspect the shop floorboards. “Well, in that case…” He cleared his throat again and looked back up, at Aziraphale, wearing the sort of expression the angel would have normally associated with facing down a firing squad. “I need you to do something for me and not ask why."

Unease bit at the base of the angel's spine. Not because he was afraid of what Crowley would ask - because he had long ago realised that the demon would never ask more of him than he was capable - but because it was beyond the normal scope of their interactions. And Aziraphale was the first to admit that he functioned sub-optimally, outside that comfort zone.

“Okay,” he began, cautiously. “I suppose I could do that.”

“It’s nothing dangerous, or anything.” Crowley informed him, unease etched into the lines of forehead. “It’s nothing _bad,_ I don’t think _._ It’s just something I need to… check.” 

Aziraphale felt the unease inside him fade, softened by the nervous sincerity in his friend’s eyes. If it mattered to Crowley, then of course he’d do it. When push came to shove, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do, for his friend. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale told him, softly. 

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“And no questions?”

“No questions.”

“Okay.” They stared at one another for a long moment, then Crowley cleared his throat. “Stand up for a second?”

Aziraphale stood and took a step towards Crowley, feeling the mood in the room shift, as he did so. The demon’s eyes darted around his face, making two passes over his mouth. Aziraphale wasn’t terribly good at reading social clues, but this one was a definite implication in those golden eyes, now.

A little flicker of nerves passed through his own belly. 

_Was this…? Did Crowley want…?_

“What do you need me to do?” He asked the demon, a little breathless, suddenly. 

“Come closer.”

There was already less than three feet between them, but Aziraphale obeyed, stepping forwards until he had to lift his chin to meet Crowley’s eyes. 

He really did have a lovely face, the angel thought, looking up into it. There was a raindrop clinging to the rise of one sharp cheekbone. The lashes around his wide, golden eyes were very dark - more auburn than the copper of his hair. Like the dark hair that scattered over his chest, the angel thought, remembering all the times he had seen his friend half dressed, over the years; in roman baths, and in the pits of a gladiator’s arena, and basking in the sun in a sheltered glade. All of him was very lovely, really, the angel thought.

“Is this close enough?”

Crowley gave a tiny jerk of a nod and swallowed. 

That place, deep in the angel’s belly - the place he had felt a squirm of delight at being called Crowley’s ‘best friend’ - was filling fast with liquid warmth. The demon’s pupils were dilating wider and this was _absolutely_ what Aziraphale had thought it was. It couldn't not be. 

It was coming completely out of the blue, the angel thought, but that was okay. It was okay for this to be happening on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday afternoon. He was ready for this to happen. He'd sort of been expecting this to happen for a couple of weeks, now. 

They'd been exploring the edges of their newly allowed and mutually claimed friendship very diligently, over the last few months, and Aziraphale had suspected this might be where they were heading. They hadn't really talked about it, but that was okay. They'd had enough intro to last a thousand lifetimes, after all. Enough watching from a distance. Enough longing for something more. 

This wasn’t the only way that Aziraphale wanted Crowley, but it was one way. And Crowley seemed to want him that way, too. And wasn't that brilliant, the angel thought? Wasn’t it wonderful that they matched up?

“What do you need, dear boy?” He prompted, gently, because he wasn’t sure that his friend was going to go through with it, now that they were actually standing there. And he wanted him to. He so wanted him to. 

“I-,” long ovals of black pupil scanned his face. “No questions, right?” 

“No questions,” Aziraphale confirmed.

“Okay… I need you to kiss me.”

“Oh.” The angel didn’t manage to catch the happy sigh that fell from his lips. Thankfully, Crowley cleared his throat at the same time, and the sound masked it. “Kiss you on… on the mouth?” How could a practical question feel so loaded?

“Yup.” The demon’s voice was very tight. 

“...now?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay.”

And not stopping to think any longer about it, Aziraphale did. 

He leant in slowly, the movement gentle, designed not to spook. His eyes fluttered closed by some unspoken instinct and his closed lips met Crowley's closed lips, the softness of their skin barely brushing - and then pressing, as both realised that the other was not going to pull away. Tilting his head, Aziraphale felt the soft unstick of the inside the demon's mouth, as his lips parted. Then, the pressure of Crowley leaning closer, nose nudging into his own. His friend's little adjustments were careful, but also sweet and committed, and so very tender. 

The whole thing must have only lasted five seconds - Aziraphale pressed up onto the balls of his feet for all of it, to hold the closeness between them. Then, Crowley dropped his chin slightly, taking a rough breath in, and the angel let his feet fall flat to the ground again. Looking up at his friend, he gave a shaky smile. 

The demon’s mouth was half open, his eyes half closed. He was beautiful. Every single part of Aziraphale wanted to say so, wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. He held it until Crowley's eyelids lifted so that golden eyes could focus once more on blue. 

“Like that?” The angel asked, softly. 

“Yeah.” 

The demon’s voice wasn’t tight anymore, just a little breathless. The tension in the room had faded, too, replaced by something that was not dissimilar to the sensation of buzzing in the ears - a kind of existential tinnitus. 

Aziraphale had long become used to the sensation of Crowley's love. He had been the demon’s friend for far longer than he had been willing to admit, and Crowley had cared about him for all of that time. The flavour of the love had changed and shifted, through the years, but it only grown greater. Never less. It was always there - a sharp edge to his magic - something that Aziraphale could sense in the split-second before he had materialised at his left shoulder (in a church, or a dungeon, or a crowd). 

You are my best friend and you love me, the angel thought, staring up at him. For whatever I have done to deserve such a gift, I give thanks.

“You okay?” He asked Crowley, softly. 

“Mnh.” 

Crowley nodded, minutely. 

They stood for another ten seconds, the angel’s hand resting on the demon’s side. Then, Crowley cleared his throat.

“Was that…” he frowned, slightly. “Did that feel… weird, to you?”

Warmth rolled though Aziraphale, the sharp edge of it nipping somewhere near the underside of his lungs. 

“Well, yes, a little. But you are very wet,” he smiled, unable to resist teasing his friend a little. (Crowley would have done the same, had their situations been reversed). “I will have to lend you an umbrella, if these storms are going to continue.”

Crowley blinked down at him. 

“I, uh-,” he faltered, paused, then blinked again. “That’s not really what I meant.”

Warmth rolled through the angel again. Fresh depths of fondness. 

“I know, dear,” he smiled. “Ignore me. I was being silly.” Stroking a placatory thumb against Crowley’s damp side, he let his eyes travel over the demon’s face. Sharp angles and soft skin, bright eyes, pupils still blown wide. “I didn't find it at all weird,” he answered, simply, after a moments’ pause. “Just new.”

“Good new?”

Never one to pass up an opportunity, when presented so nicely, Aziraphale leant back in, towards his friend.

“Well, it’s hard to tell, from just one kiss.” He snapped his fingers and Crowley flinched, to find himself suddenly dry. Then he blinked once more as the angel leant back in. “May I?”

He watched Aziraphale with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Go on, then…” 

Their second kiss lasted significantly longer than the first and involved substantially more grasping of hands and exploration of tongues. By the time they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. 

Eyes dragging over one another’s flushed faces, they drew back an inch or so, both still close enough to feel the warmth of the other’s breath. 

Crowley raised his eyebrows. 

“Well?”

The angel felt a smile tug at his lips.

“That was-,”

“Good new? Bad new?” The demon gave a little tilt of his head. “Really-fucking-weird-don’t-ever-do-it-again new?”

“Oh... the first one, I suppose.” 

“Whi-,” Crowley’s dark eyebrows contracted. He gesticulated vaguely with one hand. “What do you mean, you _suppose_?”

Aziraphale exhaled a tiny laugh. He was beaming foolishly, now - head swimming, heart thrilling, cheeks very red - and he didn’t care a toss.

“It was good new,” he soothed, tightening his hand on the demon’s side. “Definitely good new.”

Crowley made a soft noise and relaxed a little. His hand dropped back to the side of Aziraphale’s neck, where he had been holding him gently, warm finger pads pressing gently into skin. 

They watched one another for another few seconds, then the angel gave a small sigh. 

“Crowley, why-,” 

“ _Ugh_ \- no! None of that!” The demon shrank suddenly away. Turning, he paced three steps towards the door and then two back, again, biting absently at his lower lip as he eyed the angel. “You agreed to no questions,” he reminded, pointing accusingly. “You said you wouldn’t ask why!”

“I don’t need to ask why, you ridiculous creature,” Aziraphale murmured, softly. 

Crowley’s cheeks flushed scarlet. He held Aziraphale’s eyes challengingly, for a moment, then looked down at the floor again and repeated the three steps towards the door and back.

The angel allowed him two more revolutions, before gently clarifying; 

“I only wanted to know _why_ _now.”_

Still five feet away, Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted his chin, defiant against the awkwardness of the moment.

“I was just-, I don’t know-, in the area...” He shrugged, sharp shoulders throwing shadows under his black jacket, sharp collarbones jutting forward. “Didn't have anything else on today. And I knew you were in... Sss’just a thing, really. Sstupid thing...” Giving an almighty eye roll, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and threw his head back, squinting at the ceiling. “Are you busy, Friday?” 

“Friday?” The brusqueness of the question threw Aziraphale a little. (His mind had been lingering on the warm, squirmy feelings that his friends lips had left behind, in the pit of his stomach. And on all of the soft equivocations, afterwards). “This Friday?” His eyes darted quickly over to the calendar sitting on his desk, just to double check he hadn’t got the date wrong. 

“Yeah.” Crowley pulled a face. “I mean, if you’re free.” He wrinkled his nose, “…but if you’re not, that’s fine. I mean, at the end of the day it’s just a… day.” He cringed. “And it’s not a big thing. I was just wondering if you were busy. Or free, rather…” He frowned. “Though, I suppose, knowing one kind of tells me the other-,”

“The evening or the afternoon?” Aziraphale cut in, gently, to stop the rambling.

“Uh… evening.” 

“Oh.” The angel folded his hands in front of him. “Well, yes, then. I’m free.”

“Right.” Crowley blinked at him, then added, with slightly narrowed eyes. “Why? Did you have plans, in the afternoon?”

“No.” Though it gave him a strange rush of pleasure to know that the idea made Crowley jealous. “No plans. Just a perfectly normal Valentines day.” He gave the demon a small smile, knowing it was a little harsh to call him directly on what Friday was, but unable to resist one last tease. “Opening up the shop until four. Having a sale on some of the romantic poetry. It's all in ancient Greek so I don't expect to sell anything.”

The demon hung his head slightly to one side, watching him with a mixture of irritation and something which closely approximated hunger - an expression Aziraphale had always tried not to think too hard about, when he had spotted it, before. 

“You know,” Aziraphale suggested, brightly, “if we’re both free on Friday, we should do dinner.”

Crowley continued to stare at him for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes off to one side, muttering something under his breath. The angel caught the words ‘ _so annoying_ ’. 

“Is that a ‘yes’, to dinner?” He asked, pressing his luck. 

Crowley brought his head back around, his long body following as if it were caught up in the momentum. Hands still shoved deep into his pockets, he strode forwards, long legs carrying him across the shop in three easy steps. 

A feeling that could easily have been mistaken for unease tightened, in the base of Aziraphale’s spine. 

It was not unease. 

“Dinner?" Crowley asked, drawing up on front of the angel, face tilted down so that their noses almost touched. “This Friday? Great idea, angel. Brilliant. Perfect.”

"Hm." Aziraphale stared up at him. He had every intention of saying something clever and witty, but Crowley’s eyes were very wide and very golden up across his vision, and suddenly that was easier said than done. “Dinner,” he murmured, a little dazedly. 

“Dinner.”

“This Friday.”

“This Friday.”

“Like a date,” Aziraphale pointed out, then beamed. 

They both watched one another for a long moment. 

“This is ridiculous,” Crowley muttered. “You’re ridiculous…”

“Good ridiculous?” The angel asked, breathlessly, feeling a happy little rush as he mirrored his friend’s words from earlier.

“ _Ugh_ …” The demon pulled a face of abject disgust. 

“Wh-,”

Crowley held up one long finger, to silence him. 

“Listen. I’m going to kiss you, again,” he said, somehow managing to make it sound like a threat. “And then I’m going to leave,” he pointed towards the door. “And if you’re still on for Friday-,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at Aziraphale. The angel nodded. “Then I’ll call, at some point, and give you a time and place.” He took a slow breath in and out, then added; “And we will never discuss how awkward this has been, ever again.”

Staring up at him, Aziraphale’s stomach did a quivery little flip. 

“Thank you, Crowley.”

Crowley hovered, for a moment, looking torn between fleeing the scene and grabbing him by the lapels and forcing him up against the nearest surface. He compromised by giving a sort of strangled little-

" _Ngk_."

-and not protesting too much when the angel stepped up on the balls of his feet to kiss him again, the movement soft and promising. 

"I'd love to grab dinner on Friday," Aziraphale murmured, as he drew back. "I'd _love_ to."

The demon stared at him, mouth slightly open. Then, he cleared his throat and stepped backwards. 

"Right. Well, that's settled, then." His voice was noticeably higher than usual. “Friday. Dinner. Date… thing.” He gave his head a little shake, then turned on the spot and wandered off towards the bookshop door. It took two attempts to orientate himself through it, but eventually the little bell above the frame chimed and he was making his way unsteadily out into the street. “See you later, angel!” His voice trailed, nonchalantly, after him.

Aziraphale watched the demon wander off, into the rain, thinking that he really should have offered his friend that umbrella. It was absolutely pouring and Crowley had never been any good at drying spells. But that thought was soon swallowed up by other thoughts. A few lingering fear-type thoughts - about this new step that they’d taken, against the wills of their former masters - but mostly just delighted thoughts. (And one or two very un-angelic thoughts). 

They had a lot to work out really, he thought, watching Crowley’s back disappear into the sea of backs on the street outside, the brilliant red of his hair fading from sight. They would have to have a proper conversation about all of this, eventually - work out what they wanted from one another and what they could have, in this brave new post-armageddon world - but that was a conversation for another day. Today, Aziraphale would just be happy that Crowley was interested in investigating this little corner of their relationship. And on Friday, he would just enjoy sharing dinner with his friend in a slightly different manner than they had shared dinner, before. And maybe, afterwards, he would see if Crowley maybe wanted to try kissing again, because kissing Crowley had been lovely. 

Aziraphale had a few follow-up ideas on the kissing, actually, but he would have to check what the demon was on board with, before pursuing any of that. Despite the tight trousers, and the affect, and all of the flirting, Aziraphale had never been completely sure what Crowley went in for, in terms of physical intimacy. He suspected the demon had fairly specific tastes and that they wouldn’t be an issue, in their case, but he didn't want to assume. 

Another awkward conversation for a later date, the angel thought, moving back over to sit at his desk, on front of the manuscript he’d been annotating earlier. They would have plenty of them to get through, but Aziraphale was confident that they would work things out. They’d seen the beginnings and endings of the world together, after all. After that, everything else seemed manageable. 

One day, the angel thought, with a smile, Crowley would be as comfortable teasing him about kissing as he was about everything else. The angel was excited for that day to come - for them to carve some comfortable, domestic bliss from this new world - but he didn’t want to miss anything along the way. There were countless tender little moments that new couples went through that Aziraphale wanted to experience for himself. He wanted all of it. Wanted the awkward learning of one another part, just as much as he wanted to know Crowley as a partner. And he was fairly sure his friend did, too. This was certainly a very promising first step. 

Picking up his pen, the angel set it to some scrap paper and doodled idly for a bit, smiling to himself - not really concerned with getting any more work done, today - happy just to daydream about how Crowley's face had shifted and changed, at the touch of his fingers. (With the press of his lips). 

More of that, he thought, tracing words in ancient script across the pale surface of the paper. More of these moments was exactly what Crowley deserved. More life. More pleasure. More moments that were just for them. Not for their masters or their work. Not even for the earth. Crowley deserved some happiness. He had been such a good friend, over the years. Beautiful, clever thing. He deserved everything that Aziraphale could give him and more. 

Aziraphale would start with that wine he loved, the thought - the one that he’d been keeping a spare bottle of, in the cellar. That was an ideal first gift. Then, flowers. Or, perhaps, some flowering plant the demon might enjoy threatening, back in his flat. Wine then flowers, the angel decided, doodling on. Little things. Small steps, towards what they might one day become, together. Good new, he thought with a smile.

Outside the rain battered on, damping nobody's spirits, and the angel daydreamed until the early hours of the night. 

.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me lurking on [IG](https://www.instagram.com/heycaricari/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heycaricari), and [Tumblr](https://heycaricari.tumblr.com/) @heycaricari


End file.
